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The laurel-tree grew large and strong, Its roots went searching deeply down; It split the marble walls of Wrong, And blossomed o'er the Despot's crown. - Richard Hengist (Henry) Horne, The Laurel Seed This flower that smells of honey and the sea, White laurustine, seems in my hand to be A white star made of memory long ago Lit in the heaven of dear times dead to me. - Algernon Charles Swinburne, Relics
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